


In Which the Reichenbach Fall is a Different Kind of Fall

by hanniballin (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fallen Angel!Sherlock, Gen, Sherlock is an angel and he falls, Sorta Supernatural AU, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hanniballin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all falls are the same and some hurt more than others.</p><p>[ Fallen Angel! Sherlock AU, no pairing, may be continued ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which the Reichenbach Fall is a Different Kind of Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, first fic. Let's see how this goes? I might continue this AU or something, but I'm pretty okay with this right now. Editing will come later. My friend suggested this one, so I went with her AU and this happened. Hope you guys enjoy? Thanks!

It really hasn't been long since he fell. Damn, Moriarty. But, damn himself, really. He thought he could handle the situation-. But, that's another story for another time. He's a man, he doesn't need his abilities to handle himself or anything along the way. But, he cares. It stings to think of it. He's not an angel anymore. His head feels dark and disconnected, disoriented, now. He can think properly, yes, but he feels so lonely without his brothers and sisters in his head. The chattering of angels doesn't fill his skull, just the chattering of his own thoughts. He used to be annoyed by all of his siblings talking at once, but he misses the background noise now. It's only been a few days since he was stripped of his status and to be honest, he isn't ready to deal with the responsibilities of taking care of a human body. It's not that he doesn't know how, he just doesn't want to. Eating and sleeping and all those things sounded annoying and tedious. They were necessary, he knows that, but he's disdainful of them anyways. Of everything about being human, he's most worried about telling John. John needs to know, but there could be repercussions of telling him such a thing. So, in order to prolong his streak of being tolerable, he hides it from John until he absolutely has to.

It's been a month since he fell, maybe longer. He isn't sure anymore because he isn't counting days. He doesn't want to be the type that says, "oh, I was an angel last month," and feel bad every time he thinks about it. That's more torture than how bad the burns on his back feel. God damn those burns. Ha, that's funny. Telling God to damn his burns. What a joke. He's standing in the bathroom, watching his reflection move as he moves and it's funny now, how awkward he looks when he moves now. Angels are graceful and he doesn't feel as graceful anymore and he thinks John's noticed by now. He tripped yesterday. He never trips. Sherlock unbuttons the white shirt he has on and slips it from his shoulders, setting it neatly on the closed toilet lid. He turns and nearly flinches from just the sight of the burns. They're healing now, much better than before. They were third degree burns, but he didn't need help with them. Now they're hardly even burns at all, mainly deep scars and blemishes upon his skin. He knew how to handle burn cases because John taught him so much about first aid, he took care of himself. But, here he is, almost in tears (Sherlock Holmes, in tears!), because it's the circumstances of the burns, not the burns themselves. Sherlock runs a finger along the outer perimeter of the marks, hissing a little from disdain, not out of pain. They're healing quicker than most burns did, but he attributes that to his former status as an angel. Fallen angels always had increased healing rates thanks to left over traces of grace.

He goes to put his shirt back on and the door opens suddenly and oh God, John. John barged in at the wrong time. He flinches and turns, but John sees them. He knows he sees them. His eyes widen and his body jolts into army doctor mode.  
"Sherlock! Your back!" he exclaims, his voice pitching from shock as he rushes forward. Sherlock tries to pull back, desperately trying to get him to stop trying to look at them. The ex-angel is shivering from worry as John gets to them and his gaze on his back is worse than falling and the burns times ten. John's quiet for a long time, just staring, and then Sherlock feels his fingers brushing over the scars. He flinches forward, away from him and he's nearly going to cry because oh, John. He's disappointed, disgusted, betrayed that he didn't tell him sooner. But, he just touches them again before swallowing and speaking.  
"When were you going to tell me?" he asks and Sherlock searches his voice for negative feelings, any at all, and only finds sympathy and sadness and it irritates him a little. Only a little because he can only feel relief at this point.  
"When the time came that you needed to know," Sherlock says quietly.

John gives this sigh like he's aggravated, but Sherlock knows he isn't. John isn't the kind of person to be aggravated with him over losing his grace, he realizes. It's just aggravating him that he wasn't notified. The other man makes him turn around and he frowns this frown that makes him feel a bit better about everything because it's a nice frown, despite most being bad.  
"You should have told me as soon as it happened. Those are third degree burn marks, Sherlock. You could have gotten a massive infection and I--" Sherlock cuts him off with a shake of his head suddenly.  
"Fallen angels heal quicker than humans do because of left over traces of grace in their system. I couldn't have gotten an infection because my immune system is too high for it," he explains and John nods after a moment. There's silence suddenly and God, Sherlock wants him to say something, so he doesn't have to insinuate that he's upset anymore because it's annoying and upsetting.  
"So... you're a human now?" John finally asks and Sherlock nearly groans.  
"As much as it pains me, yes. I am human, John. Just like you and the other 7 billion others on the planet," he says and John nearly laughs, but just smiles one of those smiles that makes Sherlock feel better about everything and he realizes that being human is okay because emotions are okay and John is better than okay at cheering him up. Maybe being human won't be that bad.


End file.
